Time and Tide

... wait for no man. But it is interesting how we attempt to optimize said time based on what our priorities are. Too often, these priorities are dictated by social norms. We spend so much time studying to get our degrees, then we spend so much time in the workplace making our money, etc., sometimes neglecting our physical and mental health. The physical side when we sit at a desk for eight hours and insist that we need to drive to work and to lunch every day, the mental side when we are overcome by the stress associated with what we are trying to achieve.

And this only increases with the increase of how work is run in an increasingly globalized market that is based less on capital itself and more on the time that it takes to create the capital. People are told that if they work really hard they will get promoted, but objectively all they are doing is exchanging a raise of a few dollars an hour and maybe an extra week of holidays for increased production from each individual. It is sort of like the idea that if you do something stupid for 'a chance to win X amount of money' (as in Edmonton's The Bear radio station's 'Really Tough Contest(s)'), it somehow becomes warranted. The whole issue revolves around the chance to have your situation improved, because if you don't have hope, you become lethargic, because usually there is no other internal or ontological feeling of satisfaction you get from increasing your output for the good of the company since it is, indeed, for the good of the company and not, as it were, for yourself and your fellow co-workers. I recall one instance when I was working a warehouse job and had been away for a few months in Asia. When they re-hired me after returning, I noticed they had posted a piece on the notification board entitled 'One Last Push' that talked about the parent company being on the brink of record profits and putting it out as if it would be felt as an achievement and be beneficial for everyone when, in fact, they reneged on promises to hire people full time and provide benefits saying that they had to 'tighten their belts', despite these apparent record profits:

First, the fact that labor is external to the worker, i.e., it does not belong to his intrinsic nature; that in his work, therefore, he does not affirm himself but denies himself, does not feel content but unhappy, does not develop freely his physical and mental energy but mortifies his body and ruins his mind. The worker therefore only feels himself outside his work, and in his work feels outside himself. He feels at home when he is not working, and when he is working he does not feel at home. His labor is therefore not voluntary, but coerced; it is forced labor. It is therefore not the satisfaction of a need; it is merely a means to satisfy needs external to it. Its alien character emerges clearly in the fact that as soon as no physical or other compulsion exists, labor is shunned like the plague. External labor, labor in which man alienates himself, is a labor of self-sacrifice, of mortification. Lastly, the external character of labor for the worker appears in the fact that it is not his own, but someone else’s, that it does not belong to him, that in it he belongs, not to himself, but to another.

--Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts

And it is, indeed, interesting that people become 'hooked' in such a way. They are promised that bigger is necessarily better, that achievement is defined in terms of wealth and capital rather than, for example, meritocratically.

But that still makes one wonder about this element of time that creeps in. In the 19th century, John Stuart Mill argued for the regulation of labour in terms of nine hour days, something unheard of at the time when most labourers worked upwards of eleven or twelve hour days to achieve what they required. But in this day and age there is really no reason for this. Last night, my Tanzanian friend talked about if he had a bit of capital back in Arusha, he could buy a tractor or harvester and do in a few days what it takes locals many weeks to do. And not with an eye to monopolizing the output of the community, but by teaching them how to become self-sufficient in terms of optimizing their labour output. The question becomes, then, what does one do with this newfound 'free time'.

Well, for one thing, I'm sure it would be nice for a lot of these people to save their children from having to do back-breaking labour in order for the family to survive. Having extra time to spend educating themselves would be highly beneficial as well. But these both fly in the face of imperialist tactics that attempt to keep people ignorant and keep cheap and/or free labour available by monopolizing people's time so they remain trapped in an unending chain of hard labour, coerced hard labour.

And, of course, above all of these abstract ideas of self-betterment, in the highly mobilized capitalist society we presently call our own, we could probably all use a few extra hours of sleep...

Rules of Engagement

I travel because people are interesting, and when you travel you get to meet all sorts of interesting people with different views of the world.

There was one night when I agreed to go to Zula in Town for a show, and whilst there a guy asked me why I kept up with 'the Jesus look', and at first I said I didn't know (it's a fairly common question). But then when he went to empty his beer-filled bladder, I thought about it in my half-cut stupor and realized that I did know why I did it: because I always feel weird going up to engage with randoms, but this look seems to pique plenty of curiosities and allows me to meet plenty of people. And it seems in some cases I don't just meet them, but they seem to somehow trust me implicitly and admit striking things to me about themselves.

"We all have secret lives/In our secret rooms/Living in our movies/Humming our own tunes" -- Bruce Dickinson

At one venue in Zimbabwe, I was at a pub where they were having a 'ladies night' with musical chairs and other things for prizes. After the spectacle ended and I was hanging around without a partner, the emcee of the session, who seemed strong and independent, came up and started chatting with me. She then took me aside to the patio where we could talk without shouting and asked many questions about my lifestyle of travel, why I did it, etc. She seemed very interested in me, and after the pub closed, we walked back to the hostel I was staying at to continue the conversation. At the gate the security guy asked which room I was staying and when I replied that I was staying in a dorm, he said that I couldn't bring a woman in with me, and I replied that that was not my intention. So despite it being quite late and very chilly, we sat by the fire and talked more about various things. And then she started to speak about herself, revealing to me that her father left when she was very young and her stepfather was happy to pay to put her through some of the best schools in the area, but was also molesting her. And all of a sudden this confident-looking woman (of 29) broke down and started telling me that although she had her job emceeing and such, that she felt 'totally useless' and that she felt her life was 'basically pointless' and she needed to find closure somehow, and really had nowhere to go.

In another instance, I was helping an individual prepare for exams, and it came out that she had been in a relationship with a very, VERY famous South African. I had barely known her a few days, and I probably would be unlikely to see her again after that, but as she dropped me back at my place, she told me all about how she felt during the relationship, living in his shadow, often being in a long-distance relationship, etc., but eventually having to break it off, and crying for a week because of it. Throughout the conversation I gave my input and at the end of it all she told me that she doesn't normally like to talk about it, but for some reason talking through the details with me made her feel better.

There are a fair few such stories of this type that have been revealed to me either by people making my acquaintance and telling me about themselves, or physically showing me and including me in various things that reflect the way they live: sleeping on floors of ghettos, 'showering' from a basin because there is no running water (luckily by the time I got to Mafeteng, I had plenty of experience of this in Chamanculo), and other things that most Canadians would have a difficult time even fathoming.

One thing that struck me as incredibly profound, however, was when my friend and I decided to spend an afternoon in the township of Langa. As black townships go, it is probably one of the safest in Cape Town. We had originally hoped to go to Khayelitsha for a day, but the weather was against us so we had to put it off. What was profound was not what we saw in Langa, but after, when he turned to me and said "we go to these places and lambaste the locals for being afraid and carrying stereotypes about how dangerous they are, but what about us? What about 'local tourism'? Would you hang out on a Native reservation when you get back to Canada?" My first thought was "fuck, no! That's way too dangerous, and what would be the point?" But then I realized the reality of the situation and it shows how much Ive learned from Africa, especially the manner in which the existential doors have been thrown wide open in terms of what I can and cannot do or should and should not do, and I realized that the correct answer was

"I can't wait. It's gonna be so amazing, and so absurd!"

Fly on the Sociological Wall

On Thursday night I went to one of my usual hangouts, and found a rather close acquaintance of mine who revealed to me that there was a fashion show on at one of the residences that she was involved in, and whether I would like to come, despite 'the VIP tickets being sold out'. Ever the yes-man, I duly assented.

As reflected by the tone of my latest entries which has, perhaps, been a bit subdued, Ive been in a bit of an odd headspace lately with those existential and teleological conundrums creeping in. However, this event turned out to be some very nice 'art therapy', though not entirely because of the event itself.

I suppose in a manner akin to first- and second-order logic, one can consider first and second order observation. What struck me, as a few hiccups at the beginning and a late start were duly remedied, was the second-order absurdity of the spectacle: the 'mingling' of people with their drinks, the VIP tags on certain individuals ('very important person'? because they paid an extra R20 for their ticket, get free alcohol, get to sit in the front row, and get some goody-bag giveaway item? How does one define importance in this manner?). Then during the show, there was the DJ, the lighting, the catwalk, the emcees, the catcalls and screams from the audience, and, of course, the models. I summed it up to a friend of mine in a text as 'a bunch of youngsters trying to emulate Western high society' though that may be a bit unfair. It WAS interesting as a first-order observer, though I still don't and probably never will understand what is fashionable about giving the white models giant bed-head afros and slopping them all over with strange make-up, but maybe that's just me.

I suppose this sort of second-order observation comes to me more often than perhaps it does for most, and maybe it is a reflection of the interest I take from seeing not necessarily how people act in given situations, but rather how they REact to given situations; i.e. what makes them tick and why.

All in all, I will not deny the organizer my kudos for the fact that she did a wonderful job and I thoroughly enjoyed the event, both first-order and second-order enjoyment, and I was very dismayed that there was a police raid that shut down the night-club that all attendees were supposed to get free cover for that night.

Talk about bad timing...

Twilight of the Idols, Phajaan of the Humans

"To call the taming of an animal its "improvement" sounds almost like a joke to our ears. Whoever knows what goes on in kennels doubts that dogs are "improved" there. They are weakened, they are made less harmful, and through the depressive effect of fear, through pain, through wounds, and through hunger, they become sickly beasts. It is no different with the tamed man whom the priest has "improved." In the early Middle Ages, when the church was indeed, above all, a kennel, the most perfect specimens of the "blond beast" were hunted down everywhere; and the noble Teutons, for example, were "improved." But how did such an "improved" Teuton look after he had been drawn into a monastery? Like a caricature of man, a miscarriage: he had become a "sinner," he was stuck in a cage, tormented with all sorts of painful concepts. And there he lay, sick, miserable, hateful to himself, full of evil feelings against the impulses of his own life, full of suspicion against all that was still strong and happy. In short, a "Christian."

"Physiologically speaking: in the struggle with beasts, making them sick may be the only way to make them weak. The church understood this: it sickened and weakened man — and by so doing "improved" him."

--Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

One of the nice things about meeting back up with my friend was it turned out he had brought with him a copy of The Portable Nietzsche, the same copy, in fact, that I had given to him a year or so ago to keep him company in Japan (along with Crime and Punishment, which he quite enjoyed). He told me he hadn't read any of it, but as I didn't have a book, I was able to while away some of the time on buses and such reading through The Antichrist and (re-)reading through Twilight of the Idols. As much as Walter Kaufmann makes of Nietzsche's 'insanity' at the time of his writing of The Antichrist, I believe it to be a powerful critique of Christianity and the rather demeaning effect that it has on the human spirit.

When I read the above quote, I thought about the Phajaan ceremony that goes on in Thailand. Phajaan is loosely translated as 'elephant crushing', and is basically what all elephants have to go through in order to be the servants to mankind that you see during many tourist ventures in Southeast Asia.

But then it is rather interesting that this 'torture' to crush the spirit of an elephant in order that the elephant will do the bidding of their captors is not seen in a more similar light to a lot of the ways in which religion (especially Western religion) has resulted in the 'improvement' of people the world over: improvement in the form of docility, being open to suggestion, and, in general, as Dennett once said, "a gold-plated excuse to stop thinking".

Just like the elephants, they are trained to no longer fight back against conflicting ideologies. The elephant wants to stay with its mother, it wants to eat, drink, and be able to roam free, etc. On the other hand, isn't this what the human wants as well? Or is it simply the fact that the elephant is not conscious of its own metaphysical position in the cosmos and therefore has no idea of the ease and automation with which its post-Phajaan life will be.

No more decision-making, just follow your master. What could be simpler?

Ebb and Flow

It's sometimes funny how quickly we find ourselves at the top of the world after crashing down, or vice versa. A friend of mine once described his own approach to the world (psychologically speaking) as a 'sine curve' of peaks and troughs that reflected his brain state at the time. Sometimes, he said, there was much euphoria and he would get giddy at the drop of a hat. At other times (as I've been witness to), he has plumbed the depths of depression even when he 'should' have been really enjoying himself, e.g. on the beaches of India.

I won't hazard a guess as to the method behind his madness, but I will say that during my time in Zimbabwe, I often felt completely original especially in the Dionysian sense a la Nietzsche (the individual that says Yes to everything questionable). On the other hand, since Ive returned to Cape Town, it just hasnt been the same... I've gone out to my old haunts—even though they've changed somewhat—and thought to myself 'what the fuck am I doing here? At one point I thought I could extend this stay and was really enjoying my time here, and now I just want to get this degree over with.' Ever the party pooper, I guess all of a sudden my return has hit me with a small token of claustrophobia helped by the financial situation that is niggling at the back of my mind and the manner in which there seems not to be an easy solution in the near future.

And then of course there is the problem of alternate realities, either in the form of drug intake or in the form of movies. Watching Jason Statham go psycho on everyone in Crank 2, and then returning to the humdrum and mundane of reality often makes one thirst for a bit more. But then on the other hand, beginning in such a position as his (in the movie, anyway) may leave at least a bit to be desired. Anyway, no big deal.

In the end, the main thing is, obviously, the same thing that always arises in these sorts of introverted moments of doubt: what the fuck is the point of it all? I remember during my early days of studying philosophy, I went to the university library and got a copy of 'Classic Philosophical Questions', by James Gould I think. It was set up in such a manner that each section had some major philosophical topic: reality, knowledge, science, religion, etc., and within each section were two to four essays by classic authors defending certain opinions about the topic in question. The only section I really remember was one near the end about teleology. It contained two essays, the first by Tolstoy which he wrote near the end of his life when he had been taking religion (especially Christian anarchism) quite seriously; in it he argued that God gives us meaning (or something like that). The second essay, written by Albert Camus, argued that it is up to us to give ourselves meaning through what we do everyday and how we go about interacting with others and achieving according to our own wishes and desires.

I take the position of the secular existentialist (i.e. that of Camus') to heart... there is no doubt that I feel that I have created a whole bunch of doors and windows in my sea of reality that I can crawl through or explore within if I should get bogged down or what have you. However, sometimes you can't help but feel in the back of your mind that until you get back into some sort of a routine that provides you with a means to some sort of end, that you start to squirm.

I remember feeling a similar thing in the last few days I spent in Gokarna. As much as there were many ex-pats who switched between six months in Himachal Pradesh while the monsoon was on, then six months in Gokarna (or Goa or Kerala or some such) when the monsoon was no longer, when my time was winding down and my three weeks were nearly up, I got that claustrophobic feeling that I have learned to recognize when I feel like its time to move out of a certain headspace. I guess the best way I always find to sum up that feeling is to quote Jack Nicholson from a certain movie, when he is in a similar situation of confusion and indecision and utters those fatalist words:

"What if this is as good as it gets?"

Tourist Traps: How I hate them

Victoria Falls is probably the first heavily touristy niche Ive been to in Africa. It is probably the first such place Ive been to since Siem Reap almost 18 months ago.

The entry into the park containing the waterfall is $30, which, considering it costs only $20 for a day pass to Angkor and you can walk around for hours, seems a bit steep. Touts follow you around and harass you to no end about buying their carvings, going on the their rafting trips, bungee jumping, etc. But the main difference between Victoria Falls and Siem Reap is that Cambodia probably gets a huge portion of its income from tourism: go anywhere, and there are plenty of tourists. On the other hand, Im not sure Ive seen a single tourist in Zimbabwe (including Harare, Rushinga, Bulawayo, and Bindura) since I arrived two and a half weeks ago (outside of Victoria Falls, of course, which is swimming in them... no pun intended). Maybe one or two, but I wouldn't swear to it.

So I asked a number of people how they came to be there. It seems many are on tour buses from Johannesburg, some fly straight into Livingstone (internal flights are pretty ridiculous outside of South Africa), others come via Zambia. But what worries me most is the perception that the hordes of tourists may get of Africa in general and Zimbabwe in particular. Victoria Falls isn't Africa at all, and you really learn nothing about Africa by coming here. If you only came to Victoria Falls, there is nothing to say that you're in Africa other than that the local touts are black. For example, an individual I met said that some people he knew 'didn't like Zimbabwe at all', and I can see why if they only visited Victoria Falls. But we aren't in Zimbabwe. We are in a tourist bubble.

Like China, Zimbabwe is probably, on the whole, safer than North America. Consider the fact that in Canada you have to practically get cavity searches before you get on buses, and even a small pair of cuticle scissors will often have to be put with your stored luggage. On the other hand, at Mbare bus station when I was sitting on my bus waiting to go to Rushinga, there were touts outside the bus selling plenty of bizarre things, including 12-inch long kitchen knives and 15-inch sickles (which Li Weiguang could have used to behead an individual in one swipe...), their points capped with a small piece of cardboard or the top of a Coca-Cola bottle. Then on the bus as we were traveling through Harare, there were a few touts who stayed on the bus to do their selling. Standing in the middle of the bus aisle, he pulled out a chopping board and some cabbage to demonstrate the manner in which his 5-in-1 knife could shred cabbage. He then brought out some green onion and made short work of those. After this demonstration, the asking price was a dollar each and he distributed them like candy around the bus to anyone who put up their hand.

I can't explain this phenomenon completely, but my guess would be that there are at least two major contributors (aside from the completely random, absurdly gruesome, and probably unrepeatable Li Weiguang incident, which actually started the checks on buses in the first place). The first lies with the traditionally communal and often pacifist nature of Africans. Many are farmers (especially those going to remote villages like Rushinga) and survival is by no means a given (see the previous post), so violence is basically unheard of in many parts (putting aside violence between tribal factions, that is). In North America, the ultra-competitive and high intensity nature of society seems to lead people to adopt much more aggressive and dog-eat-dog demeanors. I have seen a few fights arise in bars in Africa now and again, but there is always a certain level of pride and humility involved on both sides. It isn't what sometimes feels like Hollywood nature of a lot of the bars in Canada with guys in muscle shirts calling each other out and heckling each other because they are so incredibly bored and need to somehow validate the inflated and often farcical notions of 'respect' and 'street sense' that they take from sitting in front of gangster and/or ghetto survival movies.

The other reason is likely the manner in which 'lawsuit society' has crept into Western society. Bus companies probably care much more about not being sued or getting bad publicity over some incident than the actual safety of their customers. When it is possible to sue the Winnebago company and win (and this may be an urban myth, I haven't corroborated that such an absurd incident actually happened) because it crashes because you put yours on cruise control to go into the back and make a sandwich, and 'it wasn't in the owner's manual that I couldn't do that', then companies this side really need to cover their asses.

But it brings me to a notion of freedom: in Africa there is much more freedom because of the organic nature of society, whereas in North America, everything is much more scrutinized and much more controlled. We may think we have more freedom because of the constant banding around of political buzzwords like 'freedom' and 'democracy', but in the end society ends up controlling itself through (amongst other things, see for example, Adam Curtis' series The Trap and/or Ray Bradbury's short story The Pedestrian), a combination of vanity and lack of confidence in one's ability to think for oneself. Acceptability and unacceptability to often come down to popularity amongst the general population: people think it absurd that I could study mathematics and philosophy with no eye to a possible career.

Education as an end in itself? You actually what to learn about the world for it's own sake? You want to satisfy your own curiosities about the underlying secrets of human nature? Have you seen a psychiatrist lately?

Africa and Consciousness

I lasted less than 24 hours in Gaborone. It is something like a Johannesburg in the sense that a western business sense seems to have been ushered in, which is possibly justified by many opinions that Botswana has 'the fastest growing economy in Africa', or something like that. But what does it mean for an economy to grow?

When I was in Lesotho, the individual that I spent my time with and stayed with his family once said to me 'Lesotho is a poor country'. I asked him why he said that, and noted that the notion of 'poor' is based on a western model of GDPs and capital, but Lesotho is, in fact, a rich country in the fact that it has sufficient land for its population and has a very agrarian lifestyle. I told him that money with only get you so far, as you cannot eat it. Those who control land and food production are the ones that will be guaranteed survival, as Tolstoy so aptly noted in his allegory Ivan the Fool.

One of the things that has really come to the fore, however, and really made me understand the situation in Africa, that is, the social situation in Africa, is what I can only best sum up as:

"Regardless of whether it is a socio-political challenge created by the environment one lives in or a personal challenge created and implemented by one on oneself, it is only when survival challenges an individual that that individual becomes and remains conscious."

By that I mean I realize why I enjoy Africa (and 'the developing world', like during my travels in Asia) so much more than 'the west' is because people are forced to be conscious so that they may survive in a socio-economic environment where survival cannot be taken for granted, as it too often is in the affluent west.

One can think about it this way: if one knows that all one needs to do is 'enter the system' and they will basically be guaranteed eight hours a day five days a week doing whatever but, importantly, making more than enough money to survive, there is no reason for that person to change their ways, unless they feel that there is more to survival than simply being able to afford whatever basic needs and luxuries that they should require.

And this is a vicious cycle perpetuated by the capitalist mentality, and exemplified by the fact that the names on people's lips are no longer the Platos, Leonardo da Vincis, Max Plancks, and Alexander Flemings of the world, i.e. those that contributed to our collective well-being through theory and practice. Rather, it is the Bill Gates's, the David Beckhams, the Justin Biebers, the Johnny Depps, and the American Idol winners of the world, i.e. those with power (in whatever form) and money.

This shows the dramatic shift that has occurred in the past century where capital has usurped merit with regard to importance to the 'random individual'. And because of this, there is an abyss that has opened up before us because, as Marx said 150 years ago, capitalism, which is based on profit, cannot sustain itself, because eventually there are no new markets that can be exploited for profit. This may be a blip in human evolution where a few decades or a few centuries down the road we realize the pointlessness, uselessness, and stupidity of following a track that is based on vanity and personal acclaim over merit, theory, and socio-political sustainability. The human race is at a very interesting crossroads. It is of my humble opinion that the current situation can be summed up best by a quote from Patrick Stewart (as Captain Jean-Luc Picard) in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation:

"For us to go forward, the cycle must end."